Wednesday, August 26, 2015

AMADEUS: Blu-ray (Saul Zaentz/Orion 1984) Warner Home Video

“When you finish a film, before the first paying
audience sees it, you don't have any idea. You don't know if you’ve made a
success or a flop. And in the '80s, with MTV, we were having a three-hour film
about classical music, with long names and wigs and costumes. Don't forget that
no major studio wanted to finance the film for these reasons.”

– Milos Forman

History vs.
Hollywood’s fictionalized tradition of ‘inventing
the truth’…and never the twain shall meet. Milos Forman’s Amadeus(1984) is about two people who
never actually met in real life; the gifted musical prodigy, Wolfgang Amadeus
Mozart, brilliantly reconstructed by Tom Hulce as oafish punster, and, insanely
jealous court composer with daggers in his heart, Antonio Salieri (F. Murray
Abraham). Throughout the better half of this three hour colossus, Salieri
employs oily charm to ingratiate himself into Mozart’s confidences. Yet Salieri’s
envy, all-consuming with devastating results, is well known to seemingly
everyone except Mozart, who trusts the serpent with his own ambitions and,
tragically, his life. The artist's wife, Constanze (Elizabeth Berridge)
recognizes Salieri’s darker purpose. Still, the trusting and naïve Mozart
cannot bring himself to see the deceiver. Salieri presents himself as friend
and mentor, all the while plotting the young composer’s demise. As they used to
say, ‘the truth (may) set you free. Alas, it rarely makes for good melodrama.
And so, virtually none of Peter Schaffer’s screenplay adheres to the life and
times of this brilliant man; Schaffer instead embracing the precepts of an
original off-Broadway play, and endeavoring to transform what on the stage had
been a series of conversations and altercations, into a sweeping epic with
exotic locales, the likes of which Hollywood then had not witnessed in nearly
fifty years.

There is
nothing new in Schaffer’s level of deception when delving into the bio-pic. Throughout
the 1940s, Hollywood was enamored with exploiting the back catalog of famous
composers, mostly to regale audiences with a loosely strung together fiction sandwiched
between elaborately staged and glossy musical numbers, designed to show off a
studio’s cavalcade of their brightest and biggest stars. Every life, from Frédéric
Chopin’s (A Song to Remember, 1945)
to Jerome Kern’s (Till the Clouds Roll
By, 1946) was prone to this Technicolor fantasia into pure escapism. But like
all other Hollywood-devised formulas, this too would run its course, fizzling
in the mid-fifties. Changing times and tastes, not to mention the implosion of
the ‘star system’ and severe budgetary restrictions thereafter, eventually
crushed all future prospects for resurrecting this sub-genre. And truth be
told, Amadeus is not harking back to
these all-star spectacles, but remains something more of a kissing cousin to
the ‘art house’ experiment, shot without the benefit of ‘stars’ and made for
the relatively inexpensive budget of $18,000,000 – with every dollar showing up
on the screen.

Shot in Prague,
Kroměříž and Vienna, Amadeusgreatly
benefits from these sumptuous European backdrops. Indeed, Forman was able to
lens various sequences inside Count Nostitz’ Theatre where Mozart’s Don
Giovanni and La clemenza di Tito had actually
debuted two centuries earlier. And yet, there is a decided disconnect between
these opulent and authentic surroundings, ably abetted byMiroslav
Ondrícek’s stunning cinematography, Karel Cerný’s superb art direction and Theodor
Pistek/Christian Thuri’s costuming, and, the cast, comprised almost entirely of
American talent. The performances in Amadeusare simply that – performances;
highly theatrical, with some more skillfully executed than others. Schaffer’s
screenplay plays to the strengths in Tom Hulce’s adolescent reinterpretation of
this boy genius; dictated to by a stern patriarch, Leopold (Roy Dotrice) and
patronized by the Emperor, Joseph II (Jeffrey Jones – a dead ringer for his alter
ego). Our Wolfgang – rechristened ‘Wolfie’ by Constanze – is both a scamp and a
brat, not above informing admired court composer, Salieri that his melody
created in Mozart’s honor “doesn’t quite
work” and suggesting to the Italians that their renaissance knows
absolutely nothing about ‘love’. He’s also a bit of a deviant, over-sexed and
prone to dirty jokes, farting in public, and, wanton revelries that fly in the
face of his father’s Teutonic outlook on life.

Apart from
registering as pure and magnificent entertainment, Amadeus is a film queerly absent of fact, yet wholly excelling in
its alternative verisimilitude. Director, Milos Forman assumed a daunting task
with this motion picture: how best to capture the essence of a relationship
between two men where no relationship ever existed. Mercifully, the historical
record has Salieri's own claim to chew on; made in a fit of madness while
convalescing in an asylum; that he orchestrated the demise of this musical
genius. And so, our story opens many years after Mozart’s death, with the aged
and half-crazed Salieri attempting suicide by slitting his own throat. He is
taken to a mental hospital where he begins to confess his sins to a priest
(Herman Meckler). From here, the tale regresses to Salieri’s days as court composer
for Emperor Joseph II. Considered an authority on composition, Salieri’s
supremacy is all but ended with Mozart's arrival – a one-time childprodigy out on
his own, in an ambitious spree and lark to take the world of music by storm;
laughing hysterically and breaking wind on cue to punctuate his general
contempt for authority. One can, in fact, empathize with Salieri during these
initial scenes; the jaded stately popinjay forced to kowtow to this upstart,
scornful of practically any human thought outside his own limited understanding
of the world.

Sex with an
improper young lass seems to have turned Mozart’s head – both of them –
Constanze seen as a sort of enterprising interloper, disparaged by Leopold, who
disavows his son of his inheritance upon learning of their secret
marriage. At least the movie gets most
of this subplot right. The real Mozart’s marriage to Constanze was considered
mildly scandalous, insofar as he had courted her while boarding with her
family, was asked to leave by them – did – but took Constanze’s affections with
him; the two eventually engaging in illicit rendezvous inside Mozart’s
apartment. This prompted Constanze’s sister, the Baroness von Waldstätten to
threaten an intervention based on the mores and laws of decency then in place.
To prevent a full-blown scandal, Mozart married his sweetheart almost
immediately, quelling any allegations of indecency, but very much incurring ire
from both Constanze’s family as well as his own. Although this vignette from
Mozart’s life might have fueled enough tension to sustain an entire movie, Amadeus is not particularly invested in
exploring the turbulent union, except as backdrop to an even more treacherous
and downward spiral in Wolfgang’s fortunes – and misfortunes – presumably,
compounded by his unsuspecting good nature toward Salieri; the man who (at
least, according to Schaffer’s designs) will push him into an early grave.

Mozart and
Salieri get off to a rough start; Mozart illustrating his mastery of
composition by instantly memorizing, then re-composing the welcome march written
in his honor by Salieri, but bumbled rather badly at the keyboard by the
Emperor. Mozart’s ability to simply
‘pick up at tune’ impresses both the Emperor and his court cronies; all except
Kappelmeister Bonno (Patrick Hines) who regards Mozart as an evil little bug to
be squashed. Thus, when Mozart insists his first opera under Joseph’s patronage
be in German, rather than traditional Italian, he incurs Bonno’s considerable
opposition. Mozart compounds this displeasure at court by seducing Katerina
Caveleri (Christine Ebersole) – the operatic diva whom Salieri has lusted after
for quite some time. Salieri pretends to be unimpressed by Mozart’s efforts,
when, in reality, he is seething with jealousy. When it is announced Mozart
will marry Constanze instead, Katerina flies into a rage. In Salzberg, news of
his son’s hasty marriage to this lowly girl all but breaks Mozart’s father,
Leopold’s (Roy Dotrice) heart. Even after paying a visit to the happy couple,
Leopold cannot contain his displeasure. Instead, he departs the city, the rift
between father and son never entirely healed. News of Leopold’s death shortly
thereafter leaves Mozart tormented and fearing his father’s ghost will forever
haunt him.

From here,
Salieri begins to deliberately plot a richly satisfying and extremely vial, well-orchestrated
plan of revenge – first, to tarnish Mozart’s good standing with the Emperor;
then, to pretend to be Mozart’s confidante in order to steal his latest
composition; a requiem Salieri has secretly commissioned, but meant to drive
this young zeitgeist into his early grave. Constanze, who had left Mozart in a
marital quarrel over monies owed them byEmanuel Schikaneder (Simon Callow) several months
before, now returns to discover Salieri’s ruse too late. Salieri has been
driving her ailing husband, bedridden and delirious, to finish his requiem. Recognizing
the terrible strain this work has put on his health, Constanze gathers the
pages of Mozart’s unfinished composition and locks it away in a nearby cabinet,
ordering Salieri from the house at once. Alas, in their moment of heated
exchange neither has yet to realize Mozart has already died, presumably, from
heart failure brought about by extreme exhaustion.

Mozart’s
burial in an unmarked pauper’s grave is heartbreaking (and untrue); just one in
a heap of nameless bodies committed to the same hole in the earth without
fanfare or even a faint remembrance of the musical genius that once occupied his
corruptible flesh. In reality, Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart was laid to rest in a ‘commoner’s plot’ with a private headstone
– merely, denoting he was neither a member of any royal house or even the
aristocracy. Again, we regress to the asylum where the aged Salieri has
survived his suicide attempt; his confession to the priest taken as fact; his
sins destined to condemn him for eternity. As Salieri is wheeled back to his
cell, he gleefully passes an entourage of unfortunates; mad, filthy, lost in
their own tortuous thoughts and chained to the walls or restrained in
straightjackets; smiling and absolving them of their sins, the sudden echo of
Mozart’s infectiously juvenile laughter, piercing his mind and causing Salieri
to wince in extreme mental anguish.

In these final
moments, Amadeusalmost degenerates
into a sort of moralizing grand guignol. The asylum is a house of oddities.
Yet, within its walls of yowling despair we glean the nucleus of Peter
Schaffer’s exercise; his decision to illustrate how revenge is never as sweet
or as satisfying as the avenger might at first anticipate. In murdering that
which he secretly loved and desired to become – though, publicly condemned,
and, swore to destroy as a rebuke of God’s purpose and presumed curse on his
own willful talents – Salieri condemns himself to a fate worse than death. He
is void of love – ethereal or otherwise – and plagued by a vengeance far more
self-destructive and enduring than the swift end to which he has sent Mozart. In
1984, the Academy simply could not decide who had given the better performance;
electing to nominate both F. Murray Abraham and Tom Hulce as Best Actor and let
the voting members of AMPAS decide. They chose Abraham who, in his acceptance
speech declared, “Only one more thing
could have made this evening complete…to have had Tom Hulce standing by my
side” to which Hulce, from his seat in the auditorium, mouthed the words ‘thank you’ in reply. If animosity and
competition between Salieri and Mozart was the order of the day, it was
anything if nonexistent between Abraham and Hulce throughout the shoot, and
particularly absent on this Oscar night.

In retrospect,
Amadeusis very much a product of its
time, disinterested with virtually all particulars when creating any
authenticity outside its own marvelously achieved falsehoods. Hulce’s
performance is especially of the moment – that
moment very much catering to the social mores and mannerisms of youth circa,
1984; or as the studio’s clever marketing then declared, “the man…the madness…the music…the murder…everything you’ve heard is
true!” Hulce’s own genius resides in conveying a sort of timeless aura of
puckishness; the high-pitched cackle of a virtuoso, drunk on his own success
and contemptuous of all those who would dare question its legitimacy; his
awkward inability, unable and unwilling to assimilate into the culture of court
life – farting on cue and engaging in ‘blue-humored’
parlor games that would make even a lowly scullery maid blush, much less the
rigidly cultured boors who populate Joseph II’s court. And yet, Hulce shows
great restraint in never going all the way with this performance. It so easily
could have devolved into cheaply orchestrated ridiculousness, pantomime and/or
rank parody.

The more
subtly nuanced of the two is, of course, F. Murray Abraham’s Salieri; an
enviable and sustained blend of simmering wrath and mildly amusing comedy. Like
all truly magnificent villains who endure in our collective memory, Abraham’s
court composer is infectiously mischievous as well as ill-advised. His evil
stems from the core of a very sad and lonely individual. We can truly empathize
with the way the cocoon of authority he has struggled to construct around
himself is almost immediately questioned and all but dismissed by the young
upstart, presumably poised to eclipse even his greatest personal triumphs. Here
is a man who prayed to God for his talent – limited as it may be, compared to
Mozart’s – but to have it recognized as such. For this wish, Salieri has
sacrificed much and will, ultimately, give everything over to a devil’s sin as
his devotion is turned asunder to avenge God’s betrayal of this promise he
wholeheartedly believed was made in good faith and exclusively to him. Mozart’s
death seals two fates – God’s little dynamo on earth destroyed – and Salieri’s
chance to ever be redeemed into the gates of heaven. It is this sobering
self-destruction that continues to linger as the houselights in the theater
come up. It is also largely for this reason that Amadeus – the movie – has endured.

Milos Forman’s
skilled direction of these dramatic sequences is counterbalanced by cosmetic
interludes of lavishly appointed musical excerpts from Mozart’s operas,
including whole portions from Don Giovanni, The Magic Flute, The
Marriage of Figaro and Abduction from the Seraglio. Far
from simply interrupting the story for an orchestral respite, the music
inserted augments the emotional core of the drama it bookends. In hindsight, Amadeusis a prestige production in an
era unaccustomed to the concept: Miroslav Ondricek's cinematography, a vibrant
tapestry that typifies the stately grandeur of ole Vienna. Patrizia von
Brandenstein's production design is a minor miracle, immeasurably aided by Theodor
Pistek's costumes.Amadeus may have
absolutely nothing to do with reality, but it remains a superbly crafted revision
of that life itself, a superior adaptation of a beloved stage work and
ultimately, an exceptionally engaging entertainment besides - truly, one for
the ages.

Warner Home
Video’s Blu-Ray is of Forman’s director’s cut adds another 23 minutes of girth
to the film’s already weighty runtime. In 1984, Forman removed this footage for
the sake of the movie’s success – perhaps, understanding that any story about
classical music was a stretch in the first place, and, the unlikeliest of
candidates to catch the public’s appetite. The irony, of course, is that Amadeusdid just that; raking in more
than$51,973,029.00 in the U.S. alone. The imposition of these cuts to the
movie’s theatrical release is forgivable; especially since the newly reinstated
scenes on home video only serve to augment and enrich our movie-going
experience with insightful embellishments.
Warner’s Blu-Ray – one of their very first releases in hi-def – continues
to be a standard bearer in the format, easily besting the original 2-disc
collector’s set on DVD. In the days before Warner simply went for extravagant
packaging, but scrimped on actual remastering, Amadeus in hi-def is a both vibrant and true to the theatrical
experience. Color fidelity and saturation are superb; ditto for contrast
levels, fine detail and a light smattering of indigenous film grain looking
extremely natural. Flesh tones are particularly satisfying, as are reds - blood
red – the overall image, more eye-popping and spectacular than ever.

Another
revelation is the 5.1 PCM Dolby Digital audio. It is perhaps a minor regret,
Warner never bothered to upgrade the experience to DTS. Nevertheless, what’s
represented here accurately recaptures the acoustics of the theatrical release.
Extras include an extensive look back at the making of the film, directly
ported over from the 1996 deluxe LaserDisc release, an audio commentary from
Forman and the film’s theatrical trailer; all of it contained in a handsome
digipak design with an audio CD sampler of portions of the soundtrack,
conducted by Sir Neville Marriner. Bottom line: highly recommended!

About Me

Nick Zegarac is a freelance writer/editor and graphics artist. He holds a Masters in Communications and an Honors B.A in Creative Lit from the University of Windsor.
He is currently a freelance writer and has been a contributing editor for Black Moss Press and is a featured contributor to online's The Subtle Tea. He's also has had two screenplays under consideration in Hollywood.
Last year he finished his first novel and is currently searching for an agent to represent him.
Contact Nick via email at movieman@sympatico.ca